“I’ve read a lot of false information about how the Wu-Tang Clan came together,” says original Wu-Tang member—and award-winning actor, producer, performer, and entrepreneur—Method Man (Clifford Smith). “About how certain individuals weren’t original members and this, that, and the third. I personally did not like the fact that I was put in a light where I was someone who was brought into the Wu-Tang; I grew up with these guys. I just want to clear that up because people put out false narratives. It catches on and next thing you know, that’s my bio.”

In his 30-year career, Method Man has built an impressive and lengthy bio. He’s appeared on hundreds of songs, including on seven Wu-Tang studio albums and seven solo albums, and has done collaborations with Redman (Reginald Noble) as well as a wide range of other artists. As an actor, he’s been in a plethora of movies and TV shows. Here, the Grammy and NAACP Image Award winner talks with Lisa Robinson about fame, acting, life in hip-hop, and the Wu-Tang Clan’s Las Vegas residency.

Vanity Fair: You have so many jobs—Wu-Tang member, performer, half of the Method Man–Redman duo, and actor, including roles in The Wire, The Deuce, Soul Plane, How High, Trainwreck, Garden State, and, currently, Power Book II: Ghost. I stopped counting at over 50 movies and 40 TV shows. Is acting your priority at the moment?

Method Man: Absolutely. I only rhyme because I want to now, not because I have to.

Going back to The Wire—you played Melvin “Cheese” Wagstaff, and at the time many people thought of that series as a good TV show; everyone didn’t consider it as prophetic and epic a work as it’s regarded now. How did it feel working on it?

I think, at the time, everybody looked at it like a great TV show. But for the actors and the people who cut their teeth on set every day, the people who put the whole project together—we knew it was more than just a TV show.

So many people from the hip-hop world have acted, or currently are acting, in major projects: from Tupac Shakur to Ice Cube, Queen Latifah, Ice-T, LL Cool J, Common, RZA—Mary J. Blige is with you in Power—and many more. Do you think performing in rap videos lent itself to acting?

I like to think so. When you’re an entertainer, performing a record onstage, you’re a performer. And a lot of my colleagues took time out to learn the craft and are doing well in the industry. That’s a testament to everyone else who’s in our genre or from our era; it’s never over. I took acting classes with Ivana Chubbuck, and if you put your mind to it and work really hard, you can be in the same position.

You’ve formed a production company (Six AM) and said you want to produce more. Why?

Acting is fun—I love acting—but sometimes, the way these stories are being told, especially Black stories, I don’t feel they’re as authentic as they could be. And that’s not a slight against any of the writers who aren’t Black or from the same area that I’m from. It’s just a certain flavor that you have. Let’s equate it with food. Certain people like their steak with the dry rub, salt on it, the whole thing, and other people don’t like any seasoning. They just want it cooked and just want it to taste like meat. It’s a preference.

When the Wu-Tang Clan started, was the intention to have so many people in the group? (Method Man, RZA, GZA, Ghostface Killah, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck, Cappadonna, Masta Killa, and U-God.)

My theory is that RZA’s intention for Wu-Tang was it was supposed to be himself, his cousin GZA, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard. And the track that we all hopped on (1992’s “Protect Ya Neck”) was just supposed to be a song with the people around their way; it was a posse cut. You get a bunch of guys, there’s no hook, and everybody just rhymes. I think, in that moment, RZA had an epiphany: There’s strength in numbers. And so he put it together where we were this group. There was no replacing this one because that one went to jail, or replacing another one because he wasn’t up to par—this is what it was. The only addition was Masta Killah—and Capadonna, who I felt should have been in Wu from day one, but he was incarcerated at the time.

Was RZA a tyrant or a visionary or both?

We’d kick RZA’s ass if he tried to be a tyrant. I don’t know what people think; we were all relevant in this crew. It’s brilliant that RZA took on the mantle of being the abbot, the leader of the group. Plus, he gives some of the best interviews, so why wouldn’t we want him to be the mouthpiece, our representative? If anything, we all were the tyrants.

You were considered the sex symbol in the group—did you like that?

Honestly, it didn’t bother me until it was the only description they could come up with. When your talent gets trumped by superficial things, as an artist, as a creator, that’s the last thing you want.

Speaking of the word trumped, wasn’t Donald Trump in a skit with a recorded phone message on one of your albums?

That was Russell Simmons, that was his doing. On my second LP (Tical 2000: Judgement Day), the only person I asked for, the only feature I wanted, was Janet Jackson. So when Janet Jackson did that, I was straight. Chris Rock was in the studio with me when I did that, and I love Chris for that—Janet was the only person I requested to do a shout-out on my album. The Trump thing was totally Russell Simmons’s doing.

When Wu-Tang first got famous and your songs were on the radio, then videos on TV, you said you were still at home eating rice with ketchup.

We weren’t really famous famous; we were tristate famous. I’m sitting watching my video being played over and over and thinking, Wow, so this is stardom.

How do you feel about 50 Cent’s Power universe? At one time he had four shows on the air, as well as executive-producing two others.

I will quote Andy Warhol: Everyone will have their 15 minutes. Honestly, I applaud anybody who goes for it. The way the market works, I think the corporations are going to be a little upset that there’s a way for people to monetize [these stories] without having a middleman. We’re talking about people having their own YouTube channels, their own programs. So it takes the power of it out of the hands of the corporations—even though YouTube is a corporation. But [the artists] have control over [their own] content.

The fourth season of Power Book II: Ghost resumes in September, but this is the last season—it wasn’t renewed?

No, it wasn’t. I’ll attribute it to budget. And everything runs its course. It would have been great to do Power for 15 years, but that’s far-fetched, especially when the numbers don’t reflect the audience.

There are a lot of clips online of Ol’ Dirty Bastard disrupting the 1998 Grammys—yelling, “Wu-Tang is for the children,” and interrupting Shawn Colvin’s song-of-the-year acceptance speech. Earlier this year, Jay-Z chastised the Grammy organization because even though she has more Grammys than anyone, Beyoncé never won album of the year. How do you feel about this, and do awards matter?

It’s representation. I attribute a lot of that to culture clash. Even with ODB coming onstage, no one in our community would have blinked an eye—because we know who ODB is. In a setting like that, though…it’s more decadent; it’s a display for people to show up. Even with the Oscars, if it wasn’t the Oscars, they wouldn’t show up. And there are some people who don’t show up. It’s the glamour and the glitz that the audience eats up. So they want to keep it in a light that exhibits control, which is smart, because it’s their product…but I don’t watch.

You never watch any awards show? You won three NAACP Image Awards for best supporting actor in Power Book II: Ghost.

I tune in every now and then. I used to watch the more urban shows, the BET Awards, and we do watch the NAACP Awards. And the Soul Train Awards

Are the recent beefs and rap diss tracks good for hip-hop?

The competition part? Absolutely. It keeps people on their toes, and the younger cats are watching. They’re learning that the things these guys are saying are actually their credo. And we’re watching who they really are play out in real time. It’s always been like that in a jungle setting. You’ve got the alphas and then everybody else falls in line. There are a lot of people who are going to come and claim the throne, because someone put it there. The difference now is nobody is going on record saying, “I’m going to kill you.” It’s just braggadocio—“You ain’t got this, and you getting fucked out of your record deal, and you over here and ain’t had a hit.” All that doesn’t cause fights in the club. [Editor’s note: This was said before the Kendrick Lamar and Drake battle escalated.] [Talking about Kendrick, J. Cole, and Drake], I honestly believe these three guys respect each other, or they wouldn’t have mentioned each other.

But then J. Cole apologized.

What happened with Cole—Cole doesn’t like the drama. I don’t know how to describe Cole—you’re looking at someone that’s very calculated, smart as hell, and he knows that it’s chess, not checkers.

What was the biggest problem for you in the music industry in your early years?

I was lazy. Studio time was a way for me to get out of the house and party. Like, around from 1996–2000. When you’re doing promo, you find yourself in a lot of different places over a three-month span and you burn out.

Rock and roll was always wild; recently, there have been some scandalous allegations in the hip-hop world. Were you ever a big partier?

I’ve been married to the same woman (Tamika Smith) for 30 years, and the fact that my wife and I stay out of the public eye is a blessing in itself. I think there was some after-party [a long time ago] in California, and I was having a bad day that day, but we all went out anyway. And the party was lit, it was a nice party, but I never felt so alone in my life. And the fact that I felt conscious of being alone in a crowded room…then I felt uncomfortable. I wasn’t into it at all, and it was like, None of this is for me anymore.

Was it ever?

That’s a question I have to ask myself as well. Was it ever my thing? I don’t know. I just know in that moment it changed for me. And then maybe three or four parties after that, it was, No, I can’t do this.

It’s said that you’ve recorded, or been featured on, something like 800 songs.

So I’ve heard. I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember.

Do you have a favorite?

I have a few favorites, but my most favorite ones are with Redman. Let’s just say that. He’s my brother. From another mother. Sometimes people just click—and I hate to use that cliché, but we’ve never had an argument. I never had an ill thought about him; he’s never had one about me.

What music did you listen to growing up?

A lot of diverse music. First of all, you grow up listening to what your parents listened to—soul and funk. Funk was more prevalent on the West Coast than the East Coast, but we had some of it. My parents always had music on in the house, so I gravitated to it because of that. Then in the ’80s, in my teenage years, before MTV, there weren’t any outlets that showed our videos—outside of Run-DMC or Sir Mix-a-Lot. There were all those hair bands: Bon Jovi, Poison, Whitesnake, Motley Crüe. So we had to watch all those videos just to see one hip-hop video or one rap video. I give a big shout-out to David Bowie, because David Bowie called them out on it; he said, all these great Black artists—why aren’t you playing them?

You were raised in Staten Island, and you still live there, but what got you out of bad conditions growing up?

Talent, period. And drive. A lot of these stories that come from these neighborhoods, they should be celebrated, but it gets to a point where we lose ourselves and our first inclination is to move away from that environment. But you’ve got to put something back. That’s where we run into the problem; the reason nobody goes back is because they know it’s fucked up. But we have to go back every now and then—because for the one that did get out, he could bring five more with him. Or put the things back into the community, so the community can finally thrive. And there are artists who are doing that—not a lot, but some. There are artists who are putting kids through college. That’s a noble thing right there.

In the 2019 documentary series Wu-Tang Clan: Of Mics and Men, you’re seen going back to see the people at the Statue of Liberty, where you used to work. Did you ever go up to the top?

No, I still haven’t. Not sure they still let people [all the way] up. But when I worked there, I had a half-hour lunch, so by the time I would have gone up to the top, I would have had to go back to work.

I saw you at a Knicks game. Are you a fan?

Anyone who is a New Yorker and says they’re not a Knicks fan is a liar.

You were the first member of Wu-Tang to put out a solo album, and RZA has said that Wu-Tang changed everything because individual deals were allowed. Did that cause problems within the group—financially, contractually?

Well, those come down the line and it happens with any group. I’m not saying we didn’t have problems. But if there were any real major problems, we wouldn’t be doing these residencies now in Vegas.

The next weekend of your Vegas residency is September 27–28 [at the Virgin Hotels], and you’re doing those shows with ODB’s son, Young Dirty Bastard (Barsun Unique Jones)?

Yes, he’s doing all the dates on tour with us. He’s a fantastic young gentleman and he’s a showman like his dad. From the way he dresses to the way he carries himself—you can’t tell him he’s not a star.

Do you think that ODB was misunderstood; that people thought of him as just wild, bombastic, or flamboyant?

I think when people think of Wu-Tang, if they don’t think of RZA first, they think of ODB. He was the flavor of the group. Period. I mean, you’ve seen the antics and the things that he did, but they were small compared to the other things he did.

Wu-Tang is the first hip-hop group to have a Las Vegas residency. Did you ever think you’d be performing in Vegas?

I thought we’d perform in Vegas but never a residency. I mean, this is Wayne Newton kind of stuff. Actually, it’s funny, because my second day there, our first show, I got to take a picture with Wayne Newton.

I haven’t seen that posted on your Instagram; I see mostly pictures of you in the gym.

That’s it. And the reason I post those is because of the clothing I have on—my guy is trying to sell his shorts. Tical Athletics.

Named after your album Tical. You’ve said that “tical” meant “taking into consideration all lies.” But everyone always thought “tical” was a blunt.

Yes, of course, but it’s the same way we make acronyms out of everything.

“C.R.E.A.M.” “Cash Rules Everything Around Me”—you should have trademarked that.

I should have. Even projects—people relying on just enough cash to survive.

Do you write your rhymes down?

I don’t write with a pen anymore. I use my phone; it’s quicker. And all my stuff goes in the cloud.

Do you think even though we still have some brilliant rappers, that the originators, the legends, aren’t appreciated enough? That hip-hop, like much of popular music, has gotten dumbed down?

I don’t think it gets dumbed down; the messages just get drowned out by a lot of flotsam and jetsam. And a lot of the artists who came out in the last five years are not here now; they’re pretty much out of the game already. It’s like a wave. It’s like surfers chase waves. And when they know that someplace has the best waves, everybody wants to ride that wave.

What happened with that notorious, single-copy Wu-Tang album (Once Upon a Time in Shaolin) that was auctioned off for $2 million in 2015? The guy who bought it, [Martin Shkreli], was eventually arrested [and convicted for securities fraud], then the government took it—what was that all about?

I don’t know. I thought it was some circus spectacle. I never really spoke to RZA about it; it’s an uncomfortable subject to most of the guys, so we don’t really discuss it too much. The process of the thing being made was never told to us. We were never told what it was. It was never supposed to be a Wu-Tang album. We were recording and being paid to do a certain amount of records by a guy whose name I don’t want to mention. He took all these verses—some of them were old verses—and put them altogether into a compilation of Wu-Tang songs and marketed it as a Wu-Tang album, and a single copy of a Wu-Tang album. We all had a problem with it because that’s not how it was described to us.

[Editor’s note: The digital art collective PleasrDAO, which purchased the album from the government in 2021, recently sued Shkreli, alleging that he violated the sale agreement by keeping digital copies of the album and sharing the recordings online. Shkreli has defended his actions in posts on X.]

You were reportedly upset about some of the Wu-Tang merchandise; are you okay with what’s out there?

If I ever said anything about it, it was about the knockoff stuff—because we have some of the most bootlegged merchandise on the market. I have no problem with the Wu-Tang merch. We get our checks from that.

How do you feel when people tell you you’ve influenced them?

It’s kind of great right there. It’s cool. Because it pushes you to reflect on your career.

What keeps you going?

Being in the entertainment business for this long, I’d like to continue with that.

Will there be more new music from you?

I make music all the time.

Your long-awaited “final” solo album, Crystal Meth, was announced in 2011 and has been percolating for years—but it’s not out yet. Are you still working on it?

Yeah. If you want to call it working.